Fade's Gamble
by J.S.Mallory
Summary: When a professional pickpocket is thrust into the world of shadowrunners, he will use his array of talents to prove his worth to enter the elite world of secret covert specialists operating in Seattle.
1. Chapter 1

A flavor piece for a new character of mine… it was an enjoyable story to write, for a character who is refreshingly non-violent and covert. Please offer any revisions you feel the story requires. – J.

_**Fade's Gamble**_

"So…what'll ya give me for it?"

The dwarf mulled over the commlink in his hands, while the seller lurked in the shadows nearby. "Well, it's in good condition, but not one of the greatest models. I dunno, maybe a 100¥?"

"A hundred?! C'mon Hock, cut me some slack. The data on that thing's gotta add something to the bottom line."

"Data, huh? Who'd you swipe it from?"

"Some fat Mafioso at the local bar. I went through it and he's got some timetables for a few jobs on there. Gotta be worth something to the Yaks or Triads."

"Maybe…OK, I'll give you 500¥ for everything."

"Five? The data alone is worth more than that."

"Yeah, so long as I can find a buyer before said fat Mafioso learns his commlink's gone missing. Given my short window, you're lucky I'm offering that much, Fade."

Fade sighed. "Fine. I'll take the five."

The greasy dwarf wired the payment to the man in front of him and motioned for Fade to leave. "There's your cash. Now go pay rent or something while I try to find a buyer for this thing."

"Don't worry. This will be put to good use," Fade said, as he headed out of the alleyway.

* * *

"Read em and weep," Fade said, laying his down cards on the table. "Flush to the King."

The Asian man sitting across the table from him simply smirked, as he turned his hand over and showed the Ace of Hearts… the one card capable of besting Fade's hand.

"Dammit!" Fade, aka Robert Mitchell, stood up from the felt table and finished off his drink. His slightly Syrian features were molded in a scowl as he looked at the cards lying face up on the table. His opponent still wore that arrogant smirk as he pulled all the chips over to him and began stacking them in his anal retentive equal stacks. He leaned over the shoulder of his gambling buddy, Ernie and said, "Get my chips back from him, will ya?"

Ernie chuckled and nodded. "It's what I do."

Rob was heading for the front door of the casino when a cashier stopped him. "Excuse me, Mr. Mitchell?"

"Yes?" he said, somewhat surprised.

"A gentleman asked me to hand this to you," the woman said, holding out a piece of paper.

"Thanks," he said, taking the paper. The cashier went back to her place by the cash cage and he warily opened the note.

_"Mr. Mitchell, I'd be honored if you joined me at my private table at the back of the casino for some Poker. My treat."_

A watermark at the bottom of the paper showed a gavel. Robert had alarm bells going off in his head about this, but at the same time, he really needed money. He should have taken Hock's suggestion and paid his bills first, but then Ernie had called… he couldn't pull another job so soon, since it would be too risky.

Against his better judgment, he turned around and went back into the casino.


	2. Chapter 2

The back room he was directed to was an elegantly designed private room with a small assortment of games also found on the main floor. The one table with anyone sitting at it had three people sitting at it. A large black troll in a suit, an ork who looked like he was fresh off the street and a blonde woman who gave him an icy stare he felt ripple down his spine.

"Mr. Mitchell! Glad to see you! Please, have a seat," the troll said in a deep baritone voice, while motioning to the seat beside him. Rob moved cautiously over to the seat and saw a thousand nuyen in chips stacked on the table where he would be sitting.

"Awfully charitable for someone I've never met," Rob said, as he sat down on the edge of the seat.

"True, but I'm hoping you might listen to what I have to say over a friendly game of Poker. What's your game?" the troll asked.

"Today, it ain't Hold Em. How about some 5 card stud?"

"Dealer, if you would."

The dealer shuffled up the cards and dealt out the first hand. Rob was settling in and getting comfortable after a few hands and he had started pulling in the chips from the other players.

"Ready to hear my proposal?"

"Sure, but I don't know what you think I'm going to help you with…"

"I have a pretty good idea of what you're capable of, Fade."

Rob froze and looked up at the troll, who was still smiling like he hadn't said anything noteworthy. "How do you know that name?"

"I do my homework," he said. "My name is Judge. I'm a fixer here in Seattle and these are two of my associates, Havoc and Arktik. I have need of someone with your talents."

"Uh huh," Fade said, once again on edge, "Mind telling me about this 'need'?"

"Not at all," Judge said, not changing his smiling front. "Some rich architect has designed a new smart building and a client wants the blueprints. No body count and minimal visibility. I hear that's your specialty."

"How did you hear this?" Fade asked. He felt the icy stare of Arktik on him and knew that she was assensing him. Her gaze felt like it was cutting into his very soul. He really didn't like mages that much.

"I think we have some mutual friends. Someone highly recommended you for your abilities to sneak in and out of places effectively. This architect is paranoid and keeps the plans close to him at all times. We need someone who can walk in and take the data before anyone knows what's happened."

"I think you're overestimating my abilities," Fade said with a shrug. "I steal wallets for gambling money."

"Pickpockets don't possess your gift," Arktik said. Her Eastern Bloc accent was evident when she spoke, but her stare never relented, remaining detached from her words.

"I realize your control of magic is only slight," Judge said. "but combined with your other talents, you're good. You sell yourself short."

"I know one spell. That's it," Fade said. "If you're this big fixer on the streets, why come to some unknown like me instead of someone you already have in your roster?"

"Two reasons," Judge said, "One, I'm always looking for fresh talent and Two, the man I would have chosen for this task recently caught a bad case of death. One of the hazards of today's society, I suppose, but when you piss off the Yaks, you reap what you sow."

Fade looked down at the table and said nothing. His mind was working overtime, trying to think if it was possible to get out of this situation alive. Another part of him wasn't even sure he wanted out. The job sounded like a challenge and he rarely turned down a challenge.

"This is a chance for you to make some real cash, instead of hocking old commlinks to pay the rent. Don't pass up the opportunity."

Fade stared down on his stack of chips as he mulled the idea over. "Will this be a one-time gig?"

"If you want it to be. I can find you other jobs afterwards if you find you like the challenge, but if you decide you're done, then I will release you from any further obligations."

"All right. I'll do this job for you. Am I working solo, or will there be others involved?"

"You'll have a Matrix specialist on the line with you the whole time, but on a job like this, it's best to minimize the visual presence, so you'll be going in alone."

"Fair enough. When do we start?"

"Right away. You have roughly a week to pull off the theft, so I will leave you to your planning," Judge said. He wired Fade a data parcel containing an LTG number. "You can reach me at that number if you need anything, or if you have the item and need to offload it. Best of luck, Fade."

Judge rose from his seat, as did his bodyguards and almost as an afterthought, they slid all their chips over to Fade's side of the table and walked out the door. Fade looked down at the sudden appearance of 4000¥ in chips in front of himself and smiled.

"Cashing out for the day, sir?" the dealer asked

Fade looked out at the casino floor and back to his mountain of chips. He thought about his run of luck earlier and pushed the thought from his mind. "I think that would be best."


	3. Chapter 3

Robert spent the next few days checking out the convention center where this architect, Walter Jacobs would unveil his latest smart building design. He poured over blueprints, electrical charts and old police reports of jobs that had gone down in the building prior. Each provided him with insight into what his options were, what were likely corrected after previous jobs and where the probable holes would be in the camera grid.

Once done familiarizing himself with the building, he began learning about the man himself. Walter Jacobs was a brilliant architect who freelanced out to companies to design their new sites. His buildings were famous for using less power, being exceptionally ergonomic and looking trendy. He had designed buildings for Ares, Neo-NET and Telestrian. He himself was a little bit controlling. His company was little more than himself, his secretary and some accounting people. He has a technological mistrust and has a special pair of reading glasses he replaces with each project. The glasses are prepped with an image link and in the arms of the glasses are RFID tags that store the master copy of his blueprints. Everything is heavily encrypted and the only item authorized to access the data are his own glasses until unveiling day.

A couple days prior to the unveiling, Robert was piecing together his method for intrusion when his commlink chirped to life. He brought up his AR display and reviewed his caller ID. "Information Suppressed" was the only message that glowed from the screen. Scowling briefly, he stabbed the connect button. "Fade here."

"Good Day, Fade," a distorted voice said. A Matrix icon of a ball of burning electricity appeared in the AR field before him. "I'm Judge's overwatch contact, 404. I'll be helping you out at the blueprint theft."

"Pleasure to sort-of meet you, " Fade said. "Judge says you're pretty good and I have to say, it will be nice to have someone looking over me on this one. There's going to be a lot of eyes for me to concern myself with and a few less digital ones would be a definite asset."

"How's the homework going?" 404's voice sounded like someone talking through a burning McHugh's Drive-Thru speaker and Fade set down his current reading material to better focus on what the hacker was talking about.

"Not bad. There are some things I'm going to need before I go in, if you could be so kind."

"Do what I can. What's your shopping list?"

"I need recent blueprints for the convention hall. The one's on public works are a few years old and there have been a few runs happen inside the walls since then, so there have likely been renovations and improvements made. I can't afford to be taken off guard by an exit that no longer exists, or an undocumented camera."

"Done. Get that to you ASAP. Anything else?"

"I need to be able to get in there. Think you can get me in?"

"You thinking guest?"

"Both guest and staff. I'll need a passable identity as a guest and add me on as either maintenance or kitchen crew."

"I'll let you know what I can cook up."

"Great. One other thing… my prop guy couldn't get me a very critical piece of gear and I'm hoping you have someone that can acquire it."

"Oh?"

"I need to swipe the mark's reading glasses. If he puts on the fake glasses between when I grab the real ones and I get out the door, we could be in trouble. I need you to get his prescription information and get a duplicate pair of glasses. Image Link, RFID markers, the whole nine. I don't want him to suspect anything's wrong until he tries to unveil those blueprints."

"I'll see what I can arrange."

"Any chance you can get that to me in the next 24 hours?" Fade asked with some hesitation.

"Now, you're pushing your luck, but I'll do my best," 404 replied.

"Great. Oh and when we're inside doing this job, any chance you can cut down the distortion on your voice mask? I don't want to fight through a headache the whole time."

There was a static laden burst of laughter before 404 replied, "Sure thing, chummer. Call ya tomorrow."

"All right. Good hunting."

Fade hit disconnect and resumed profiling his target in preparation for tailing him for a day to get an idea of his routines and mannerisms.


	4. Chapter 4

Fade sat at a table on the sidewalk outside a coffee shop when his commlink rang again, showing the same "Information Suppressed" message. "Fade here."

"Hey, omae. How goes the recon?" he heard 404's voice ask. He had already toned down the distortion and it was much easier for Rob to follow the hacker's words.

"Not bad, I suppose. The guy has a lot of friends and he has to chat with all of them, it seems."

"He does have a big reveal coming up…"

"True enough. The guy is a control freak and a hand talker, which is going to make my job even harder."

"How does him being a hand talker make your job more difficult?"

"His control freak version sees him holding onto his precious glasses constantly. Then he starts talking to people and his hands get going…it's going to make getting those glasses from him tricky," Fade sipped his soykaf and slumped in his seat. "So, what have you learned, 404?"

"I'm uploading the latest blueprint and some interior images to your commlink. Hopefully, it will help you confirm a few things."

Fade saw a data packet emerge over his ARO and when he clicked on it, a three dimensional rendering of the ground floor popped up. He compared it to the map he had composed, containing what he believed would be the changes. He smiled as his estimates proved accurate. They had added more cameras to remove some of the blind spots, put extra alarms on some of the exterior doors and added security to the ventilation system. "This is perfect. Thanks for that."

"As for the IDs, I made a few calls and I have you on the kitchen staff as a waiter. That should allow you to get out on the main floor and fly below radar, while you scope the place out. I'll have a drop point to you later for your ID badge and uniform. It should pass a casual inspection easily enough."

"Hopefully, they won't be conducting in-depth inspections then."

"Don't give em reason to. Go in unarmed if you have to. If you're really paranoid, I can see if I can have a gun put in the building prior to the event."

"If you don't mind… I'm all for doing this covertly, but if the shit does hit the fan, I don't want to be the only one not packing heat."

"All right, I'll see if I can arrange something. As for your guest pass, you are Alfonso Alvarez, a real estate surveyor for Spinrad Industries. You've acquired land on the Mediterranean coast and are looking for architects to develop the area. I don't think this will be the first dealing Jacobs would have had with Spinrad's boys, so you should fit in nicely."

"Any chance you can get me a Spanish Linguasoft? My Spanish is a bit rusty, and I need the accent to be believable."

"Consider it done. Finally, the glasses… I have a guy who can do it, but…"

"But what?" Fade asked after a long pause.

"He knows that our backs are against the wall on this one and he's being an ass about it. He's doubled his prices on me."

"Unfortunately, we don't have time to waste. How good is his work?"

"One of the best forgers I know. Nanoforges, exacting details… even duplicates the serial numbers, if he gets them."

"Then we go for it. How much does he want?"

"Thousand, all in advance."

Fade sharply inhaled. "I hate paying anyone in full up front…"

"As do I, but I don't think he'll budge on that one. He has to pay off an optometrist to do the lenses properly up front on this."

Fade transferred some of the money Judge gave him at the casino to cover the cost. "If this falls through because of this guy, I'd like your associate's name, if you don't mind."

"Not a problem. My rep's on the line, too. Let you know about the final arrangements, once I have the intel."

"Great. I gotta move. Walter's finally done talking, so I might finally get to see what this guy does all day. Call me later."

Fade disconnected and stood up from his table. He picked up his coffee and newspaper, as he subtly followed the architect down the street and into the city.


	5. Chapter 5

"You should see it now," 404 said over the comm. "It's a plain white van."

"Got it," Fade said, as he walked over to the van. It was a block away from the convention center, where the gala would be going down very soon. As he stepped up beside the van, he pulled on the handle for the side door and was surprised at how easily the door opened, given the fatigued appearance of the vehicle.

The door swung open and the driver's seat swiveled around to face the rear. "Pleasure to meet you in person, finally."

The driver was a handsome elven man with a chromed datajack in his temple and a Frankenstein-like commlink clipped to his belt. His attire and mannerisms were all well-groomed, making him look like an upstanding citizen, rather than a basement-dwelling denizen of the Matrix. He could have been quite a lady-killer.

"404?!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know… I don't look like a hacker. But really, what better hacker than one you don't suspect, right?"

"Misdirection is a very handy tool," Fade said. "It's served me well enough over the years."

"Let's hope it serves us well tonight," 404 said, with a smirk. "Your uniform and ID credentials are in that box there, as are our custom glasses."

Fade stripped down to his form-fitting body armor and began dressing as a waiter for the evening's gala. He clipped a RFID badge to his breast pocket and intentionally tied his tie off-center. He messed up his hair slightly and slumped his shoulders. "There…do I look the part of an underpaid wait staff?"

"Sure do. I don't think they'll pay you any mind."

Fade reached down into the box and opened the thin box sitting at the bottom. Inside were a near exact duplicate of Walter Jacobs' reading glasses. "These are perfect. He even got the small chip in the right lens in there…"

"He's good at what he does, I'll give him that," 404 said, "I'd use him more often if he didn't jerk my chain so damn often when it came to payment."

"His attention to detail could make or break this job, so this was worth the investment." Fade placed the glasses in the inside pocket of his waiter's jacket. "All right, it's show time. You're already in the system?"

"I have my back door all prepared. You worry about human security and leave the Matrix to me. If you need a quick exit or assistance, keep in subvocal contact and I'll do what I can."

Fade nodded and stepped out of the van. He walked toward the convention hall, making slight adjustments to his waiter persona as he walked. A slight hesitation in his step, lowering his shoulders further, casting his eyes to the pavement…all these help him fall further into role.

As he turned into the alleyway that led to the kitchen service entrance, he heard 404 over the Soundlink built into his ear. "Well, aren't you a ray of fucking sunshine? If I didn't prepare that uniform for you myself, I'd swear you were one of the downtrodden for sure."

Fade cast a sidelong glance at the camera over the door and scowled. "Shut up and let me focus," he subvocalized in return.

"Bout time, you showed up."

Fade lifted his gaze from the pavement and locked onto the eyes of the ork that had addressed him. His eyes quickly cast back down as he mumbled an apology and bitched about the bus.

"Don' care why yer late. Just so long as it don't happen again, aiight?"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

"Get in there and get to work."

_Nice security you've got there…_ Fade thought as he walked in the door without his ID badge even being checked. The cool, damp air of the Seattle night gave way to sweltering humidity as he stepped into the kitchen area. The smell of food filled his nostrils and he instantly wished he had eaten before getting on the job. There wasn't any soy or krill here. This was the real stuff and the smell of it was intoxicating.

"You gonna stand around all day, or are you going to do some work today?"

Fade looked up and realized one of the kitchen staff was speaking to him. "Huh? Oh yeah, sorry. What do you need me to do?"

"Get a tray from over there," the man said, pointing to several trays loaded with drinks, "and get out there. We have a lot of wealthy guests that we don't want to upset."

"OK, sure thing."

He walked over to one of the trays and exhaled sharply as he looked down at the heavily laden trays.

"Problem?" 404 asked.

"Never done this before and these trays are really loaded down. I can't believe my job could come apart because I have no actual waiter experience," Fade said under his breath.

"Just relax and focus on the tray. Wide stance on your hand, center it under the tray and watch out for the party-goers, since they won't watch out for you. There is no rule saying you can't use your off-hand to stabilize it either. You'll manage."

Committing himself, Fade lifted the tray and after a momentary wobble, he managed to get the serving dish up and hold it steady with his free hand. Balancing everything steadily, he stepped out of the kitchen and into the main hall.

The tremendous heat and overpowering smells of the kitchen immediately vanished, as he entered into the perfectly climate-controlled interior of the building. The new smell was a pleasant combination of fresh lilac and subtle disinfectant, not the worst smell he'd ever encountered. The din of countless overlapping conversations filled the air. A multitude of languages were bantered back and forth like verbal tennis matches, as different deals; both firmly professional and enticingly personal, were being conducted over hors d'oeuvres and cognac. Almost as soon as he emerged from the food prep area, guests began migrating to his location. It didn't take long before the flutes of alcohol had all vanished into the hands of guests, requiring Fade to return for a reload.

"Is it always like this?" he asked another waiter, while replenishing his tray.

"What? The guests getting hammered in the first few hours? Oh hell yeah. Later on, once they can barely stand up, you will get some better tips. They won't acknowledge your presence until they're a little lubricated."

"Ah, all right then. This is my first 'upper class' dinner so I wasn't sure what to expect."

The other waiter wiped his hand on a towel and before offering it to Fade. "Dennis."

"Frank," Fade replied, reciting the name off his badge.

"Yeah, these events are actually pretty good. Right now, you're an insect, but later they'll be telling you all about their takeover bids and if you want to, you can probably bang some poor sex-starved executive's wife, since you've got the right look about you."

"Won't that cause some serious problems?"

"You'd think so, but these wives have put up with enough of their spouse's stepping-out for years that the husbands never say shit for fear of the wife bringing up all their past indiscretions. You'll be fine."

"All right, then," Fade said, hoisting up a new platter. "Guess I'd better get these drinks out there then."

Dennis laughed. "Now you've got the motivation."

Fade learned that Dennis wasn't far off the mark. Glass after glass of alcohol vanished into the hands of the greedy guests and it wasn't too long before he'd already acquired several comm-numbers and rendezvous requests from the early partakers and he hadn't even made it half way across the hall, where his mark was happily chatting it up with guests.

"Gonna run outta booze before you get over there," 404 observed.

"Starting to see that…there'll be more food soon, but it will likely disappear just as fast."

"You have your second identity you can use."

"I should wait until Frank's absence will be less noticeable. We have to be patient on jobs like this."

"The time is killing me, but I'm in this for the long haul. Wish I'd peed first…"

Fade chuckled and went for the next tray. He spent the next couple hours delivering a mix of food and drink to the guests. Over that time he slowly made his way over to Walter Jacobs. The other, more skilled waiters had managed to deliver some alcohol to the party's patron, but it only seemed to amplify his animated conversational habits.

As per usual, his glasses were in his hand as he spoke. As Fade got close, he reached into his inner pocket and pulled out the decoy glasses.

"Evening, Mr. Jacobs," Fade greeted as he got closer to the architect.

Walter turned to see the source of the voice and smiled politely. "Yes, good evening. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Not really sir, I just wanted to thank you for giving me this opportunity to work here and I was wondering if you were interested in another drink?"

"Oh, yes yes, you're quite welcome," he said, returning to a dismissive stance. Fade stifled his smile, as he watched Jacobs set his glasses down on a nearby table in order to retrieve a glass from the tray. As soon as the flute left the tray, he turned to the woman Walter was talking to, "one for you, madam?"

As he pulled their collective attentions toward the tray, his free hand set the decoy on the table and swept up the architect's custom specs. When the woman lifted the champagne from the tray Fade turned to leave.

"Excuse me, waiter?" he heard Walter ask.

Putting a smile back on his face, Fade turned back to the party patron. "Yes, Mr. Jacobs?"

Walter moved his beverage to his off-hand and scooped up his glasses from the table. "Can you have someone come over with a tray of food? Not much has made its way here and I'm rather hungry."

"Right away, sir."

Fade smirked as he headed back for the kitchen area and noticed Dennis returning with an empty tray. "Hey Dennis, Mr. Jacobs is looking for a tray of food to make it over to him. Any chance you can run it out to him?"

"Sure thing. You sure you don't want to? He's a good tipper, from what I've been told."

"Nah, I really have to take a piss. You can have it."

"Awesome. Thanks, chummer!"

Fade set his serving platter just inside the kitchen and turned for the bathroom. "Does he have any inkling that there's been a switch?" he asked subvocally.

"Negative, though one of the security staff seems to be paying you a lot of scrutiny. He may have seen something during the handoff."

"Shit. Is he following me?"

"Not yet. Just following you visually. You gonna switch personas?"

"Yeah. Should only take a second or two. Warn me if that guy is gonna be dropping in on me."

"You got it."

Fade stepped into the bathroom and stooped down to look under the stall doors. Seeing that the room was empty he made his way over to one of the mirrors. He took a deep breath and relaxed as he tapped into the local astral space. He observed with satisfaction, as the magical energy flowed over his clothing, switching the cut and color of the jacket from a waiter's uniform into a far more business-like suit. The common bowtie morphed and stretched into a stylish burgundy necktie, better suited to match the way his shirt blended from stark white to a deep, midnight black.

As the spell finished, he stood in front of the mirror to ensure he looked as clean cut as possible. "It's no Armante, but it looks good enough. Now, where'd you stash my stuff?"

"Corner stall," 404 responded. "There is a loose wall panel there. One of the employees told me about it."

Stepping into the corner stall, Fade rapidly tapped the wall panels until he heard the hollow sound of an air pocket behind the wall. He twisted the tile and a four-by-four section gave way to reveal a hidden compartment, stuffed with porn magazines, drug paraphernalia, as well as a cologne bottle and small holstered pistol. Fade took the cologne and the gun before replacing the tile and stepping back in front of the mirror.

He slid the weapon into the inside pocket of his jacket and poured some cologne onto his hands. Taking a deep breath, he caught the potent scent of the cosmetic-drug cocktail mixed with the aftershave as he splashed it onto the sides of his neck and face. The false front implant in his face immediately kicked in and he watched as the shape of his features contorted and shifted painlessly into that of someone else. It was a strange sensation, both seeing and feeling your facial contours rearrange slightly…one that Fade wasn't sure he'd ever get used to.

As his skin stopped shifting, 404 chimed in. "Look alive. That guard has decided to check up on you."

Fade brought up his commlink and loaded the Spanish Linguasoft the hacker had sent him. Apparently, the chip even had a 'Barcelonian' inflection to the speech to add some authenticity.

The door opened as Fade was straightening his tie. The guard from the party swept the interior of the bathroom with a stern look.

"Is there a problem, senor?" Fade asked, surprised by the sound of his own voice altered by the simsense software. It had changed the level of intonation, even on his English words.

"Did you see a waiter in here, sir?" the man asked politely.

"No, I'm afraid not. Why? Has one of the wait staff stolen something?"

"Nothing for you to be concerned with, sir. I merely need to question him."

"What does he look like? Perhaps I can assist you?"

"He looks…uh…" the guard said, as his eyes flitted about, trying to recall some detail about Fade. "…average height and weight, sort of dark hair in that style everyone seems to be wearing nowadays, dressed in a staff uniform…"

"That's not much to go on, I'm afraid," answered Fade as he took on a perplexed tone. This was exactly he had maintained as bland an appearance as possible- if you don't stand out, they couldn't pick you out.

"It's a security issue, sir," he replied gruffly, and Fade could detect the annoyance the guard felt at both himself and the situation. "We'll handle it. You just enjoy your evening."

"Well, I won't keep you then. I can't imagine he would have gone far. I wish you good hunting."

The guard nodded and walked out of the restroom. Once the guard had left, Fade made his own exit.

"Damn, you're good," 404 said. "I don't even recognize you. What's your exit strategy?"

"Walk out the front door. Being one of the guests, they really shouldn't have any reason to stop me. Be ready, just in case," Fade said.

"As always."

Fade hadn't taken more than a few steps toward the front door when a familiar voice spoke to him from behind. "Excuse me?"

He turned around to see Walter Jacobs standing there, still holding his untouched drink in his off hand. "Senor Jacobs! What a pleasure to finally bump into you."

"I didn't think we had met. Who are you? I wasn't expecting any new faces at this function."

"I am Alfonso Alvarez, real estate prospector for Spinrad Industries," Fade said, flashing a toothy smile. "I am very interested in seeing your latest design Mr. Jacobs. Mr. Spinrad has acquired some Mediterranean coastline in France he is looking at developing and your name has come up a few times."

"I'm sure. Johnny's been after me to do some design work for him for a few years now. How is business across the Atlantic these days?"

"Business is good. The economic climate in Western Europe is shaping up nicely and we're carving out our own little piece of it all," Fade said, adopting some of Jacobs' own hand talk for his corporate persona. "We are aiming to make our new office structures really stand out on the French skyline and we hope your new designs can help us achieve that goal."

"I'm flattered, Mr. Alvarez, but Spinrad has yet to tender me a truly competitive offer," Walter said, with a smirk.

"We hope to correct that this time around, my friend."

"Something's up," 404 said over the commlink. "I think that bored guard put a bee in someone's bonnet, because it sounds like the Star's been called and they're making preparations to close down the center and search for the thief. You gotta get out of there."

"How can they call the cops when nothing is confirmed as stolen?" Fade asked subvocally.

"There are a lot of rich people in that building. Star can't afford a bunch of angry rich people if something really is missing. Lose Jacobs, quick."

"If you don't mind," Fade said, in his Spanish accent, "Could you tell me where I am allowed to smoke? It's a bad habit, I realize but I am unfamiliar with your smoking laws here."

"You'll have to step outside, I'm afraid," Walter said, "Make it a short one, as I'll be doing the reveal shortly."

Fade checked his watch. "I didn't think you were supposed to reveal it for another half hour."

"Everyone is here and eagerly anticipating it. Why put it off any longer than I need to?"

"Agreed. I will be back momentarily. I look forward to the display."

Walter nodded and turned to go back to the main convention floor as Fade spun on his heels and walked quickly toward the front doors. He put a cigarette to his mouth and lit it, exhaling a plume of white smoke around himself.

"Won't that draw attention?" 404 asked.

"Just trying to mask the smell of the cologne. I don't want to be remembered for anything, not even a brand of fragrance. Of course, security may escort me out, if they're real sticklers for smoking."

"Shit… Walter just put his glasses on and realized that they're bogus. You're out of time."

"What kind of ammo's in this gun?" Fade asked, with a sigh.

"Non-lethal. Can't afford to kill any of these big-wigs, right?"

"Good. Get ready to move."

Fade walked over to the front door, taking a deep drag off of his cigarette. The door guard stepped out in front of him, holding up his hand for him to stop. "I am sorry sir, but no one is allowed to leave the premises."

"I was told to take my cigarette outside…apparently I am not allowed to smoke indoors."

"While that is correct, it would seem that there has been a theft in the building and we are not permitted to let anyone leave. The police are on their way and we will have this resolved in as timely a manner as possible."

"Why was he allowed to leave?" Fade asked, pointing through the door with irritation.

"Who?"

As the guard turned to look, Fade pulled the pistol from the inside of his jacket, placed it at the base of the guard's skull and pulled the trigger. The loud pop sent the guard down to the floor and the runner quickly ran out the door, stashing the pistol back under his clothes. As he stepped onto the street, he could already see the lights from Lone Star vehicles moving in.

"Bastards waste no time when the rich are in trouble, huh?"

"I'm coming to get you, stay put," 404 said.

"Negative, they'll ID your vehicle. I'll hit the sewers. I'll meet you two blocks south of here."

"Copy. Call me if you need out earlier."

Fade rounded the nearest corner, gripped the first manhole cover and grunted as he dragged it off the opening. He scurried down into the darkness as fast as possible, pulling the cover back overhead as he started his descent. The stench of run-off refuse and sewage was held at bay by the cigarette he still clenched between his teeth, but the cigarette would run out soon enough. He removed his jacket and covered his nose and mouth with the fabric as he tapped into his magic one more time. The clothing morphed into a one piece, enclosed suit that covered his lower face. It was simple, would hide his face and might offer a small degree of insulation from the stench of the undercity.

He waited as long as he felt he could afford for his eyes to acclimate to the darkness before heading south. The orientation system built into his skull tied into his commlink and kept his relative position showing on the city map, as well as the location of 404's comm. signal. He heard police cars come to a screeching halt outside the convention center somewhere behind him and he subconsciously hurried his pace through the winding tunnels.

Taking over half an hour, he wound his way through Seattle's underbelly and pushed aside a manhole cover not far from where 404's signal was waiting on the surface. He saw the tired-looking white van and pulled himself up onto the street. He hurried across the road and pulled open the side door of the van. 404 wheeled around with pistol drawn and Fade raised his hands in surrender.

"Easy! It's me!"

"Jesus… warn me when you're coming, all right?"

"Sorry. Just glad to be out of there. Let's go get paid." Fade said, pulling the collar of his suit down away from his face.

"Best plan I've heard all night."


	6. Chapter 6

"So, you got it?" Judge asked.

Fade reached inside his shirt and pulled out the glasses, setting them down on the table. Judge set his commlink beside the glasses, pulled up the AR display and a three dimensional view of a bizarre looking building popped into view.

"It's genuine. Well done."

"Glad you approve," Fade said, the fatigue starting to show on his face.

"So, any thoughts as to whether you want a steady stream of work?" Judge asked.

"Mind if I take some down time and put some serious thinking into it?"

"Not at all. If you jumped headlong into this, I might have to rethink my impression of you. You have my number. Call me when you've reached a decision."

"Will do."

Judge forwarded a data parcel, containing another 4000¥ over to the thief for the payment of his services and Fade slid out the door and back into anonymity.

* * *

"Three of a kind," Robert said, showing his down cards. His opponent cursed and mucked his hand. Rob couldn't help but smile as he pulled his chips towards his growing stack. He had paid his rent for the next two months, food in the pantry and had even bought himself a new lucky suit. He had seen more good Aces tonight than his past two times to the casino combined.

"Hey, Rob!" Ernie said, sitting down across the table from him. "Wasn't sure I'd see you here again so soon after the last time. You went bust pretty quick last time."

"Not today, my friend. I'm on a roll," Fade said. "That doesn't mean you need to help me lose or anything."

"No promises. I play to win," Ernie said. He turned to the waitress, ordered a beer and posted the blind to join the game. "Looks like you hit good times. New suit and everything, huh?"

"Yeah, I got this sweet new contract job. Took no time at all and paid real well. How are things with you?"

"Little less to play with, I'm afraid," Ernie said. "I had some stocks invested in corporate real estate and one of the up and comers just had something pretty important go missing and end up in the hands of competitors. My stocks took a hit on that one. But, I'll bounce back, you'll see."

"Sure you will. You're a smart guy and these setbacks happen to all of us," Fade said. He thought about Ernie's stock and how his actions influenced their worth. It wasn't much…a blip on the grand financial radar, but it had been him that had caused it. He had that kind of power.

Fade opened his commlink, typed a simple text message and sent it to Judge. "I'm in."

"Bet is 400¥ to you sir," the dealer said as Fade closed his commlink. He peeked at his down cards and saw a pair of Queens. He closed his hands around his chips and moved two stacks onto the table.

"Let's make life interesting, shall we?"


End file.
